Loss of control
by tenamanda1988
Summary: Near had only felt fear once... too bad Mello doesn't think once was enough. MxN boylove inside


**Summary:** I was inspired to write this fic after a roleplaying community where I play Near had a curse which caused all characters to experience their worst fear. So I spent some time trying to imagine what near's fear was and I started writing this. Its been sitting on my computer for a couple of weeks until i finally got round to finishing it. I'm not entirely happy with the ending, but overall I like it. plus I kept my promise to make my next MxN fic a bit dirtier ;D

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Near could only remember feeling that emotion called fear once in his life. Or at least it had been the one time where he understood it for what it was.

He had been three, or maybe four years old. It was the single memory he had before arriving at the orphanage, and unsurprisingly, it was the memory of the event that had given him the status of orphan. He had no memories of his family, no father, no mother, if he had had any siblings they too had been lost to him. They were only three people who he could find out such information from and quite frankly, he didn't care enough to ask.

But that night he remembered, remembered the fear as it coursed through his system, obliterating every singly coherent thought. And it was in that, the loss of his logic and mind that the true terror had dug itself down into him.

Smoke, there had been so much smoke from that fire. He remembered waking up blind, almost deaf, choking and gasping for breath, only saved by the pure luck that he woke up and didn't sleep deeper and deeper as the smoke poisoned him. Like any small child he'd tried to hide, crawling low under his bed, more luck on his part as he had yet to learn the basic principles of surviving the dangers of smoke inhalation. But still he might have died there, in the darkness. If not for the fire, licking under his door, snapping and crackling in his ears.

He couldn't remember what happened after that, only that he woke up on the freezing ground outside, listening to the sound of sirens approaching with the most intense pain he'd ever felt burning in his right leg. He cast his eyes up to the open window of his room and took in the knowledge that he must have jumped out to save himself (giving him a leg broken in several places that never healed properly). The realisation was terrifying, because he knew that in that moment of self preservation...

He hadn't thought. He hadn't been in control of himself, his body acted without his minds permission.

He never wanted that to happen again, control was everything, the brain over the flesh, mind over matter...

So why then was he here? Why was he letting this happen? When he could feel his mind starting to shut down once again, the needs of his body taking over...

Mello's teeth sank into the sensitive skin at the arch of his neck and he whimpered, not because he wanted to, would never want to but his body wouldn't listen to him. It was involuntary, incomphrehensible. it was frightening.

Every gasp, moan, every movement of his body closer to Mello's mouth, his hands... touches that pulled reactions out of him so easily, too easily.

When the older man returned to the SPK headquarters, breath laced with whisky scent he'd asked him, no, ordered him to leave. Knowing the situation was dangerous, Mello sober was a force of nature in himself, emboldened by the alcohol Near was certain he'd be a man-made disaster. Mello had laughed at him, walking over with a swagger in his leather clad hips, backing Near into his bedroom door and finally trapping him between his arms. Looking down at him with that arrogant sneer on his thin lips, mad eyes burning into Near's own blank ones and _kissed him._

It had all gone downhill from there, now he was splayed out on his bed underneath Mello, pyjama top hanging open and his trousers long since tossed into the corner of the room. His weak protests had done nothing to sway the blonde as he proceeded to make the white haired boy 'feel' as he had put it, in that rough, husky voice of his. Now Mello knelt between his spread legs, hands tight and binding on his hips, ready to break Near's precious self control for the second time in his life.

"Mello... stop..."

"Near..." he heard the almost purr in his ear, "Are you scared?"

"..."

"Are you scared Near?!" Demanding now, "Tell me!"

"... yes." He admitted it, maybe Mello would stop, give in now that he admitted this weakness. Foolish hope in the face of fear.

"Good." Mello spoke, an odd light in his eyes, like holy reverence, like he was gazing down at a spoiled saint. The Virgin Mary robbed of the essence that made her so pure, so untainted. An angel with broken wings, if only for this moment.

When Mello thrust into him it hurt, it tore a cry from his throat like that of a wounded animal and his hands flailed, trying to grab onto anything stable. The sheets were loose and sliding in his grip, not good enough as Mello rocked into him, his own moans boring into Near's mind, leaving another memory he could never discard. He knew he'd carry this experience with him to the grave, every single millisecond of it.

Eventually pain turned to that other feeling, pleasure, and somehow it was worse than the pain. Displacing his thoughts even more and with shaking hands he lunged and caught onto Mello's shoulders, barely registering his self-proclaimed rival's surprised gasp. It didn't matter anyway, they were far too deep into this to stop now, Near knew that he would never be able to voice the words to tell Mello to stop, knew that if he did his traitorous body would call for him to come back, to keep moving, harder, _faster._

Their bodies came together, hard and rough and Mello was like the whirlwind, sweeping away Near's mind with the sensations he was so fond of. When finally he orgasmed it was to the rush of blood in his ears, Mello's sharp exhaulted cry of release and triumph and that total, complete, blankness. For those few moments, seconds of pleasure there was nothing, no thought, no control, only _sensation._

This time he came too with overwhelming heat pressing against him, Mello's weight solid and oppressing as he panted heavily on top of him, face buried in Near's neck. There was the uncomfortable feel of drying sweat and other... things. His shirt was sticking to his skin unpleasantly, his bangs were plastered onto his forehead, and there was a beginning discomfort down there that he knew would build into an ache that he would struggle to hide from his team tommorow.

And yet... there was something else. Something new and unknown, a connection forged in that moment of lust, bringing the desire to hold onto Mello, keep him there. It was completely unfounded and illogical, like an extra piece in a puzzle box, something that didn't belong yet still begged to fit.

_Mello_...

But the blonde man made the decision for him, pulling away and out, sitting up as he drew in shuddering breaths. Ungloved hands found a vest, laced up his trousers whilst Near breathed in and tasted the lingering alcohol and chocolate taste of him, slowly coming back to himself. He watched as Mello stood, looking down at him with an unscrutable expression, similar to those he claimed he so hated on the albino boys face. His lips parted...

But no sound came, no insult, no taunting words of triumph. For once, Mello had no cruel words for him.

Instead there was the sound of a door opening and shutting loudly. Mello was gone, not to be seen again until the end came, a wordless understanding between them.

Near twisted onto his side, pulling his legs up to his chest so he was no longer so exposed; at last his mind was working again. Thoughts falling into a familiar order, he was Near again and if not for the stains on the bedsheets and the marks Mello had left it would be like nothing had happened at all. An event that would only exist in the memrories of the two who had participated in it.

Near reached out and grasped a block of wood from his dresser alongside a small carving knife. Despite how tired he was he felt the urge to work, a mischevious smile twisting his lips as under his skilled hands a puppet began to emerge...

A puppet with a vicious smirk and a scarred face, challenging everything around it.

Perhaps the loss of control was not always a bad thing.


End file.
